A diary of sorts, chronicling the failures of my efforts to create a perfect life.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

These chairs were made for walking

Dear Marc, can't sleep. Instead, am apparently burning the midnight oil surfing red fibreglass chairs. How puzzling this sentence would have been if shown to someone living in the age of those very chairs. But in our modern era, I'm sure you understand what I'm talking about.

This is what I've come across:

Aren't they lovely? Such character! They look like they might take off before the night is over.If I could only afford them, I'd keep them in our new garden, tied to the wall so I'd be sure to find them in the same place I left them.